All Shall Fade
by Amanita Jackson
Summary: Angsty story about girl from Rohan. VIOLENCE. Littleno interaction with main LotR characters intended. Just trying my hand at writing my own character. R&R!
1. All Shall Fade

All Shall Fade

Again, this was my first attempt at writing a serious story soplease be kind.

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Aeda ran down the steps of the thatched cottage she shared with her mother, joining the excited throng of villagers. Her father, brother, and secret lover had gone with the Rohirrim four moons earlier. The Rohirrim had returned.

She was anxious to see her lover, Etheron, as he was not as good a fighter as her brother. Not that she wasn't anxious to see Aedomar, but she had different reason. Aedomar was the one teaching her to be an amateur shieldmaiden. She had learned to use daggers, a spear, and two kinds of swords because of him. He was teaching her how to use a longsword and how to wield daggers like an elf he'd met, when the call went out for all able-bodied men with horses to come along with the Rohirrim. There was a huge band of orcs just a few hundred leagues from Edoras, and Lord Eómer wasn't taking any chances. Unfortunately for Aeda, no women could come.That meant the end of her lessons until her brother came back. Each day without her lover OR her brother had lasted an eternity.

On the bright side, her father was gone, and Aeda hoped he was rotting with the orc carcasses. Aeda burned with silent anger as she remembered how her father had beaten her mother until she could barely stand. All because Malevolain had not liked the dinner nor the grimace on Aedwynn's face when he had spat his meat back onto the platter. Aeda subconsciously fingered the huge, faded bruise on her face. Malevolain had hit her across the face so hard that she had knocked over the table as she stumbled backwards. She had gotten up and had made a second, futile attempt to help her mother. This time, she had been knocked across the room, hit the wall, and fainted.

If Aedomar had been there, she thought angrily, Father would have died then and there. But Malevolain had contrived to send him out on a double shift with the hunting party; Aedomar always had to take his father's shift as well as his own. That would change when he was sixteen and a man, but at fifteen he could do nothing but grit his teeth and obey. It was the Law.

Ah, the Law! The Law, written by that snake, Gríma, made it even easier for devils like Father to abuse his family. The Law stated that until children were sixteen, they had to live with their parents and obey them, no matter what outrageous thing the poor offspring were ordered to do. The Law also stated that husbands had the only say in family matters-who their daughters could court, who their wife visited, what chores their sons did. Each family was now a country, with the fathers the sole dictators. If a husband beat his wife, no one who cared could do anything. If a father ordered his daughter to stop seeing someone, she had to comply. The only way to get around that was to have the two fathers talk and agree on a marriage. Aeda was not getting married to that upstart Etheron, her father had declared almost half a year earlier. In fact, none of Malevolain's family was to have ANYTHING to do with Etheron's. Etheron's family was not only poorer than Aeda's, but his father was Malevolain's childhood rival. Aeda was furious, but all her arguments got her were bruises and a broken arm and rib.

A child jostled Aeda, bringing her out of her angry reverie.

"Look, Aye-dah! Look! Ethewon's coming home!" the child, Etheron's two-year-old brother, beamed up at her, but soon replaced his smile for a puzzled frown. "Aye-dah, why do you have that fing on you face? Wew you sick?"

"Yes, Ethenain…I was…sick," Aeda said with some hesitation.

"Oh, well, I hope you feel bettew!" said the child earnestly. "Then you can come see us again!"

Aeda smiled sadly. "Yes, that would be nice. I hope I can come see you again."

A hush had come over the crowd. The Riders were back, but at the head of the column rode Eómer, with Theodred in his lap. Theodred flopped limply from side to side like a rag doll, his face an ashen grey. The villagers gasped. Their prince had fallen! Surely he was dead!

But no, he lived yet. Aeda could see the labored rise and fall of his chest, and when the column rode by her she could hear his harsh breathing. She could smell the sweat of the horses as she hung her head in respect and sympathy for the prince of Rohan. She could hear the heavy step of man and horse as she scanned the crowd for her relatives and Etheron. She spotted Etheron, and sighed with relief,. Her relief was short-lived, though, because riding just two rows behind him was her father. She frantically weaved through the rows with the other women and children, but she could not find her brother anywhere. She grew more and more frenzied as she searched in vain for Aedomar. Finally, in the third-to-last row, she spotted one of Aedomar's friends, Halyth. Halyth was one of the several Riders who held the reins of the deceased's horses. He was holding only two; a beautiful chestnut mare and an older, grey-and-white spotted stallion. The mare's saddle was embroidered with a pair of green horses, which Aeda knew was the crest of a family on the other side of the city. The second saddle was embroidered with red, in the form of a triangle of horse's heads with a horseshoe in the middle.

Her family's crest.

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	2. Home is Behind

Aeda tightened her hold on the reins she rode across the fields by moonlight. Not for the first time, she ached to kill her father while he slept. What he did-! She and her mother had not beenbeaten that night. Oh no, what he did had been far worse. In drunken celebration, Malevolain had boasted of his cleverness on the fields. The Rohirrim had been facing a band of five score orcs in the far reaches of East Emnet. Aedomar had gone with the vanguard, while Malevolain had been in the left flank. They had encircled the orcs at dusk, and killed all who had tried to break through. Dawn brought a bitter, kamikaze struggle from the orcs, and a dozen broke through the ring and ran. Eomer sent twenty-odd riders after them, and the rest were to tend to the wounded and bury the dead. Aedomar wanted to stay behind, as did Malevolain. Malevolain's left arm had been injured; his shield had been split. Aedomar had come up to him, smeared with thick, foul-smelling black blood, and challenged him for the family. Aedomar had intended to kill him once the party had left.

That night, Malevolain had come up to Aedomar while he was sleeping, and stabbed him in the stomach with Aedomar's own dagger. It was a painful way to die, and nothing could be done. The Rohirrim all assumed it was the orc's work, and could not believe a father would kill his only son and heir. On the second day of the ride back home, Aedomar fell off his horse into the ford where the Snowbourn feeds to the mighty Entwash. The heir to the house of Blood-Rider was washed away with the dead leaves in the long road of water stretching out to the liquid plain of the Sea.

Two hours before dawn, Malevolain laughed heartily and fell over, snoring. He'd finished his story and had completed the task of welding Aedomar's sword-arm to his shield as a prize. He'd told the rest of the company that it was the orc-leader's sword-hand, taken in victory. Aedwynn laughed softly, bitterly. "You go on, Aeda. Go get some fresh air. Gods know there won't be much chance when he wakes up. Get some playtime in while you still can, child."

"But mother, wha-"

"Go on, little one. I'll clean up here." And without another word Aedwynn bent and started picking up the dented and broken crockery around her husband's ruddy, flushed head.

"Mother, why did you marry father?" Aedwynn sighed, choosing and weighing each word carefully before answering her daughter.

"Your father was different then. And you must remember, we were young and maybe we were too…hasty. I asked my father for permission to marry the rich, handsome lad, your father asked his father's permission to wed me. I was different, too. I didn't know people were more than they may seem. And it wasn't like this…" Here, Aedwynn lowered her voice to a whisper. "In fact, it all started when he fell in with Wormtongue's company. He went out with them one night and didn't come back for weeks. And when he did, he was as he is now. But that was long ago, when you were two. He adored you, if not me and…and…your brother-" she chocked back a sob. "He doted on you until you were old enough to say 'NO' and mean it."

"Mother, why did Father never like Aedomar? Why did he like only me?"

"I'll tell you, but you must go before he wakes up. He will have a pounding headache and likely in a rage that Etheron yet lives." Aedwynn sighed. "My child, there is something you must know. Once you have heard, you must flee. You must be careful. Much depends on you." Aeda nodded, confused. Aedwynn leaned closer, lowering her voice yet more, so that Aeda strained to hear it. "Very well, the reason is this: you recall how I told you that your father was very wealthy? He spent a great deal on drink, but many families these days eat worse than our dogs. We are very well off. The reason is that his grandfather was the King's right-hand man, and was killed defending his King in a skirmish. So our family is still in good favor with the King. Or would be, if he had his wits about him. I am a woman, and therefore am not allowed to see him, but Wormtongue has done something to our King. You had met King Theoden, years ago, when your father was kinder and Wormtongue less poisonous. I knew him of old, and I know he would not allow our people or our women to be treated in such a way!"

"Yes, Mother, but why did Father hate Aedomar?"

"I'm getting to that. Anyway, when your father was born, a soothsayer was passing through and offered to read his future. Your grandparents agreed. The soothsayer got out some herbs and chanted under his breath. Suddenly, he screamed, and cried, 'The boy you see here will have all and nothing, and give much to lose it! This boy's child will see the end of our world! This boy will be a King, and killed by his dissenting court! Beware! His most dangerous enemy shall be his own flesh and blood! He will live by the sword but not die by it, he will massacre his flesh and live, then see danger double and die! Beware, my boy, beware!' and the soothsayer was dead before he hit the floor.

You see, my dear, he heard a distorted version of the prophecy and thought that by killing Aedomar, the threat would be through. He thought that Aedomar, the boy, would be more danger than you, a female. The prophecy means that you, since you're his only child now, will see the end of our world. He is a king to us, his dissenting court, and one of us would kill him. It will be you. You are his most dangerous enemy. I don't know what the last part means, but you will find out. I had your future read at your birth, in secret, and you will journey far. There was no double meaning in your future. Or so I thought. Go northeast. There are Elves there that can help you." Aedwynn eyed Malevolain as he stirred drunkenly. "Go, love. Flee. Here is some food." Aedwynn pressed a small bundle wrapped in a blanket. "It has a week's worth of bread, two flasks of water, and a pair of Elf-made daggers."

"Mother, how did you know the Elves? How do you know where they are? I thought they were just a fairy tale!" Aeda asked desperately, not comprehending. How could her mother be sending her off, with no warning?

Aedwynn smiled. "My mother ran from home once. You are the granddaughter of an Elf-friend."

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Aeda ran blindly through the fields surrounding Edoras, to the small grove of trees not four hundred rods from the walls. She could not believe it. Aedwynn couldn't be dead! She was the one constant in Aeda's life…she had always been there for her. Now she was rotting with last week's dead. It should be Father out there! Aeda couldn't forget the screams, and the blood-Aeda fought down the bile rising in her throat. Aedwynn had been so loving…she gave her life for me…I can't let it be a waste…**

And so it was that Etheron found her, sitting in the makeshift tree fort she and her brother had built long ago, sobbing her heart out. He was leading two horses, and moving at a quick, cautious pace. Etheron reached the tree and stopped for a moment, then gently eased Aeda up off her low perch and into the saddle of one of the horses.

In the cold, clear hour before dawn, a shadow paced the walls of Edoras and watched as two lone figures galloped away to the northeast.

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Any better than the first chapter...? 


	3. The World Ahead

Etheron smiled grimly as Aeda wrapped his brow in dirty linens. He was still shaking, but not as badly as he had been before. Not near as badly as he had been when the orc's horn had first blasted their foul war call over the plain. It was a very good thing that Aeda had known how to fight, too. They would both have been killed if she hadn't--twice, she had cut down an orc readying itself for a thrust into Etheron's back. He had managed to repay half his debt before the score of orcs were dead. If the orcs had been on wargs or they themselves on foot-! Etheron knew that if the foolish orcs hadn't blasted their call, he and Aeda would be bones on the ground and flesh in the stomachs of the orcs. It scared him to think about. He had been so very close to death in that one moment…in that one moment, it had seemed like he would _rather_ die than face what would lay ahead. The gift of foresight…hah! It was more a curse. Especially since he had to be in pain to see ahead. The more pain, the stronger and more detailed the image. Oh, he had wanted to die then and there, if it would mean he would not have to face what he had seen…

"Are you alright?" Aeda asked quietly. She got no answer. Etheron was staring out into space, untouched by anything on Middle Earth. As Aeda eyed him worriedly, he shook his head, as if to clear an unwelcome thought, and stood, a little too quickly. Aeda caught his arm as he stumbled and helped steady him, then started to lower him down to the rock. "You must rest, love. We have many leagues yet ahead."

"No, truly, I'm fine," insisted Etheron as he gently pushed aside her hand and straightened up once more. "We must be away by nightfall, ere the plains are thick with wargs. The carnage is sure to call them like a battle cry calls to arms. Do our horses live?"

"Yes, but one has a saddle missing and a great gash across his back. The bleeding has stopped, but each step brings pain to the poor thing. Must we leave it here and continue? Or must we force it through its pain to shelter?" Aeda was worried. She knew blood drew wargs to the bleeding animal. If they left the horse, it would slow the wargs down, but they would have to stop more often if they were both to ride the one horse. If either youth were to walk, they would be left behind in a quarter hour, and they could ill afford that. And should they encounter the beasts again, it would have to be the last horse or them. But if they kept the injured horse, they would go faster for longer, but, again, have to stop frequently. The bloodied horse would draw the wargs straight to them, and they would eventually have to leave it if they were to live. Besides, they were out in the Wild. None could or would help them here. There would be no shelter. What Aeda was asking Etheron was: should we sacrifice the horse now, or later?

Etheron thought for a moment. It was painful-horses were practically kin to the Rohan. But he decided. "We will leave the horse here," he said softly. "I think it would be a greater evil to bring further pain to it, only to have it die. Besides, we must look to our own survival. The Wild is not kind to man, elf, or beast."

Aeda put her hand on his shoulder. "Come, my love. Dark approaches. We must be away ere the stars rise."

The two lovers made the injured animal as comfortable as possible, then leapt up on the back of the remaining horse. They could already hear the wargs singing their foul songs in their foul tongue, far off in the distance. Twilight kissed the travelers as they sped through the plains, skirting the edge of Fangorn, then on to Mirkwood. It was a journey of many hundreds of miles, and they had traveled but two hundred yet. Much hardship would they endure before then. As the Rohirric youths rode over the horizon, toward the rising stars, a third horse and rider, at the head of a score of others, called a halt. The rider dropped down, and bent, looking at the ground, reading it. Another rider came up alongside him.

"Milord, what is it?"

Without a word, the first man leapt back to his horse and spurred it on. They would not rest that night. They had not really rested in the fortnight they had spent in pursuit of those accursed horse thieves, the ones that had stolen both horses and food. The thrice-damned thieves would be caught, and punished. These Riders would not allow them to escape.

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